Edwen Nana
by Elf Eye
Summary: Backstory for the character Edwen Nana in "The Nameless One" series.
1. Greenleaf And Redpoll

This story answers the following questions: What was Edwen Nana's name before she became Legolas' foster-mother? What happened to her husband? What happened to her own infant? Did she volunteer to foster Legolas or was she asked? Toward the end of the story it incorporates a section from the first chapter of "The Clearing." I guess it can basically be considered to be a prequel to "The Clearing."

**Vocabulary**

Bereniell—'Bold Maiden'

Born—'Red' or 'Hot'

Edwen Naneth, Edwen Nana—'Second Mother', 'Second Mama'

Erynmaethor—'Wood Warrior', i.e., 'Carpenter'

laes—baby

Sador—'Faithful'

Tathar—'Willow'

Bereniell lay on her back in the warm sun, her eyes closed, listening intently to the mingled sounds of her heartbeat and that of the child who lay within her. Her hands gently caressed her growing belly and she smiled each time she felt the child kick.

"Bereniell," a voice said softly, and she opened her eyes to gaze up at her husband Sador, who had quietly entered the glade. Her eyes flickered from his face to his hands, which clutched a bow. He bore a quiver on his back, and a sword was girt by his side.

"You are departing?"

"Aye."

"You have been back not even a fortnight."

"A band of Orcs has crossed the southern border, no doubt on orders from the evil power that dwells within Dol Guldur."

"You may not be here for the birth of our laes, then."

"True, but my company has been recalled. I cannot ignore the summons. The safety of someone else's laes may depend upon it."

"That is so," murmured Bereniell. "I should not be so selfish."

"Selfish? You have never been selfish! Indeed, you are famed for being far otherwise."

Sador crossed over to her, laying aside his bow and sitting by her side.

"I remember the day we met," he mused, taking her hand and caressing it thoughtfully. "The Orcs were marching on your village, and my troop was the first to hear word of it. You had gotten away safely to the stronghold with your younger sisters, but once there you saw that your neighbors' children were not among the other villagers."

"Aye, and then I remembered that their parents had gone to gather mushrooms, leaving the oldest child in care of the younger ones."

"But the oldest child was none too old!"

"Old enough to be left in charge in peacetime, but perhaps not old enough for such a charge during wartime. In any event, she and her siblings had hidden under the bedstead instead of fleeing."

"You ran back to your home," Sador continued the tale, "and when you arrived, the Orcs were sacking the village and firing the cottages. You scrambled into the children's cottage and called for them."

"Out they crawled, but before we could get to the door, a great Orc stood blocking it. How savagely he grinned!"

"But he wasn't savage enough!" chuckled Sador. "Nor were any of the others. Let me see if I remember the tale. The first Orc you took out by seizing a pot of boiling water and dashing it into his face. Now, the second, was that the one you jabbed in the belly with the hard end of a broom?"

"No, that was the third. The second I merely hit over the head with the largest cast-iron pan I could lay my hands on."

"Ah, of course. And the third was the broom. The fourth?"

"Threw salt in his eyes."

"The fifth?"

"Hit him with one of the bricks we keep in our cottages to warm and slip between the sheets on cold nights."

"The sixth intruder?"

"Pepper. _Red_ pepper. Unfortunately, as it turned out, that wasn't an Orc but _you_ come to rescue us!"

Both laughed heartily at the memory of this first meeting.

"I sneezed all the way back to my camp," gasped Sador, tears rolling down his cheeks as they had on that day so long ago. "Ever after my comrades have called me 'Born', saying that as it means both 'red' and 'hot', it is name well-suited to a warrior felled by red pepper at the hands of a peppery elleth!"

"But since that day you have developed quite a taste for red pepper," teased Bereniell.

"Aye," agree Sador, "and for the peppery elleth, too! In fact, I want a taste now! Mmmm, as spicy as ever—although you are very hard to kiss when you giggle so! Ow! What was that!?"

"The child kicked."

"As peppery as his Nana," joked Sador. "His red hot Nana!"

He sat up reluctantly.

"That wasn't much of a taste. In fact, it has only whetted my appetite! But I am already late for the rendezvous with the others, so I must linger no longer."

The two arose and walked together to Sador's horse. After Sador had mounted his steed, he leaned down and kissed Bereniell once more.

"I will be back," he promised before cantering away.

A week later Bereniell awoke to mild pains in her belly. She called for her mother, who sent for the midwife.

"I do believe, Bereniell, that your labor has begun," the midwife told her after examining her. "But you are a long way from delivering. These light contractions may continue through the day and into the night. You need not take to your bed just yet. Indeed, it would be better if you did not do so. Stay active, completing such chores as are not too heavy."

Promising to return when the time came, the midwife departed. Bereniell felt mild labor pains throughout the day and into the night.

The next morning, Bereniell awoke to a hard contraction. She tried to arise from her bed, but suddenly her water broke.

"Nana!" she called.

"Ah, it will not be long now," exclaimed Nana, and she sent Bereniell's father to fetch the midwife back.

He had not been gone long when Bereniell and Nana heard the sound of a galloping horse.

"That is no midwife's steed," said Nana, her face puzzled. She went out to greet the rider. It was a warrior, one from Sador's company.

"Madam, is Bereniell within? I must speak with her."

"She is within, but in labor. May I convey a message to her?"

The warrior hesitated but shook his head.

"I should speak with her. She may have questions whose answers only I would know."

"I will prepare her," said Nana reluctantly. She knew what the visit must portend.

"Bereniell," she called softly as she reentered the cottage. "Bereniell, there is someone without who wishes to see you."

"Who is it?"

"A warrior from Sador's company."

Bereniell was already pale, but now she turned paler. She, too, understood instantly why the warrior was there.

"Do you want me to send him away, daughter? Perhaps he could return later."

Bereniell did not hesitate.

"No, let him come in. I would know the worst at once rather than spend hours or even days imagining it."

Nana called the warrior into the cottage. Before he could utter a word, Bereniell spoke.

"Sador is dead," she said flatly.

The warrior gave her the courtesy of speaking to her as forthrightly as she had spoken to him.

"Aye, Bereniell. He is dead."

"When?"

"Yesterday morning."

"Yesterday morning," Bereniell repeated thoughtfully, gazing down at her belly. Then she looked up again.

"How?"

"An ambush by a band of Orcs. A few of their archers succeeded in circling around to the rear of our lines. Sador was struck from behind. The arrow entered at the base of his skull. He died instantly and felt neither fear nor pain."

Bereniell nodded slowly. That at least was something to be grateful for. She would not have wanted Sador's last minutes in Arda to have been filled with sorrow or grief.

"Bereniell?"

She had forgotten that the warrior still stood there.

"Is there anything else you would wish to know?"

"His body?"

"He lies in great honor in company with others who have fallen. Bereniell, the pyre can not be delayed; as you cannot be there, would you prefer that he be buried so that you may later visit his grave?"

Bereniell shook her head vigorously.

"No, unlock his spirit from the earth of Arda so that he may return to the Valar."

"I shall hasten at once to his company and so instruct his comrades."

"Thank you."

"I take my leave of you, Bereniell. Truly you have been well named."

"As was Sador," murmured Bereniell.

With a deep bow, the warrior departed, leaving Bereniell to her thoughts and her labor.

Perhaps it was the shock of the news, but Bereniell's contractions slowed. The midwife arrived and stayed with her throughout the day and into the night. It was nigh noon the next day when the head finally breached.

"No doubt," Bereniell murmured distractedly as the infant slipped forth soon after, "by now Sador's spirit wafts above a funeral pyre."

"A boy," called the midwife. "But rather quiet," she muttered anxiously. Still, the laes breathed and looked alert, and his color was good. After cleaning and wrapping him, the midwife handed him to Bereniell. His grandparents crowded near.

"Red hair," exclaimed Bereniell's Ada. "How unusual for an Elf!"

"And a red birthmark upon his shoulder," added her Nana.

"Yes," said Bereniell softly, "red hair. I shall name him 'Born'."

Born stared at her intently. He waved his little fists about. Suddenly, he sneezed. Bereniell's parents laughed, but Bereniell did not. As she gazed upon the laes, he waved one of his little fists again, as if in farewell. Then he quietly closed his eyes. He never opened them again.

It was several minutes before Bereniell's parents realized that the child was gone, for Bereniell continued to hold him as calmly as if nothing was amiss. When they understood what had happened, they began to wail. The midwife tried to pull the child from her arms to see if he could be revived, but Bereniell would not relinquish him.

"Do not struggle against the will of the Valar," she said serenely. Then she arose and went outside so that she could say goodbye to her son in peace. Cradling him gently, she wandered into a nearby stand of trees. She looked up into their branches.

"I did not question the taking of my husband. Nor do I question the taking of my son, to whom my husband returned in spirit. But I beg of you: treat him well; treat them both well."

Out of the corner of an eye she saw a glint of red. Turning, she watched as a male redpoll, a flame-colored patch upon its crown, flitted into a willow tree.

"Thank you," she whispered.

That night she lay calmly, gazing up at the stars through a window. Her breasts ached from the milk that swelled them as her belly had once swelled with her child.

"It is a pity," she whispered, "that my milk will go for naught. My breasts will dry and wither as if there had never been a child."

Her breasts continued full for several days. They were still full when one morning she awoke early and lay quietly for awhile listening to the dawn-singers.

"Odd," she mused. "The birds sing as beautifully today as they did a week ago. I did not think it would be so."

Gradually she became aware of the sound of hoofbeats.

"Early for a rider to be abroad," she murmured. "Traveling swiftly, too."

The horse approached the cottage and was reined in. Bereniell heard the door to the cottage open and close.

"No doubt Ada or Nana has gone to speak with the rider. Perhaps he wants directions."

The door opened and closed again, and Bereniell heard someone approach her bedstead.

"Bereniell," said her mother, "are you awake?"

"Yes, Nana."

"Bereniell, a messenger has come for you. You are wanted. No, you are needed."

"Needed?"

"Aye. The Queen is dying, but her child is like to live. He must be suckled, else he will join his mother all too soon." She hesitated. "I know that your grief is still fresh. Can you nonetheless find it within yourself to be an Edwen Naneth—to nurture a child when your own has but lately died?"

Bereniell looked at her calmly.

"No elleth can be an Edwen Naneth unless her own child has died first. It is the way of Arda."

"You will do this then?"

"It is a gift to a bereaved mother to know that her milk will not be spilled fruitless upon the earth. Now I will grieve the less. Perhaps this is why the Valar first gave and then took away my own child. The Valar will look after Born, and I will preserve the life of this laes whose Naneth has died."

Bereniell arose and with her mother's aid quickly packed a few necessities. Then she solemnly kissed both her mother and father farewell and departed the cottage. Outside awaited an Elf holding the reins of a spare horse. He assisted her to mount, and then, as quickly as her condition permitted, they rode for the Great Hall. Once there, the Elf did not hesitate, but took Bereniell straight to the lying-in chamber. As they approached, Thranduil's angry shouts could be heard as he raged over the death of his Queen. Bereniell's escort quailed, but she only walked all the straighter.

"I am indeed truly needed here," she thought as she calmly entered the chamber of birth and death.

Several days later, a tiny Laiqua held firmly in her arms, Bereniell, now Edwen Nana, was again mounted upon a horse. Led by Gilglîr the Seneschal, she rode to a clearing in which sat a small cottage.

"'Tis a humble dwelling," said Gilglîr apologetically, "but you will be safe here."

He dismounted from his horse and helped the elleth down from hers. She looked about appraisingly.

"A little elfling has no need of grandeur. This will do until such time as the King recalls his son to the Great Hall."

"It may be long before he does so, Edwen Nana," said Gilglîr sadly.

"But until he does, be sure I will see that Laiqua is happy here."

"Thank you, Edwen Nana. For my part, I will see to it that you and the infant lack for nothing needful. You must understand, however, that Laiqua is to be dressed and brought up plainly. It would not do for his princely status to be apparent to all and sundry. Although guards will be posted in the forest, if news of Laiqua's presence here spreads widely, evil folk might try to creep near—aye, and might succeed, too. As long as he is to dwell outside the Great Hall, he must be passed off as a commoner."

Edwen Nana nodded.

"I understand, and so he shall be raised—as least in so far as will be noticeable to others. He shall dress and dine plainly and his pursuits shall be simple ones. In private, however, I shall strive to equip him with the manners and the skills that he will someday need as Prince of Greenwood."

"Good," said Gilglîr, satisfied that he was leaving Laiqua in good hands. He mounted his horse, but he hesitated a moment before riding off.

"I understand that you have but lately lost a child."

"Yes," said Edwen Nana, "a little over a fortnight ago. Else I should not be equipped to succor this infant," she added wryly.

Gilglîr winced.

"I am sorry for your loss," he said humbly. "It must be hard for you to take upon yourself the care of a laes when you have so recently lost one of your own."

"No," replied Edwen Nana calmly. "It is not hard. For I console myself in thinking that the Valar took my child because they knew that this one would have need of a Naneth. And I believe that one day the Valar will again send my child unto Middle Earth."

"True," said Gilglîr, "but you may never meet him."

"There are many elflings I will never encounter," replied Edwen Nana serenely, "but I shall embrace the ones I do meet."

Gilglîr looked at her respectfully.

"I believe you will. Aye, you would embrace even a dwarfling, I believe, for you are filled with affection and must have an object upon which to lavish it. Indeed, you would no doubt care for a man-child, should one come your way!"

Edwen Nana laughed.

"I hope you are right; certainly I have affection and to spare for this little one." She looked down at the infant that lay asleep in her arms.

"Laiqua," she said softly. "You shall not want for love."

Gilglîr gravely saluted her, reined his horse about, and rode from the clearing. After he was gone, Edwen Nana carried Laiqua into the cottage and surveyed her domain.

"It is light and airy enough," she mused aloud, "for the windows are large and well-situated. That will be a good place for Laiqua's cot, and my bed shall go there. We shall need a wardrobe, a table, and two chairs. A dry sink is needful, of course, and a bench along that wall would be nice, as would shelves on that side. That earthen oven shall do, once it has been repaired."

Her musings were interrupted by a knock upon the door. She went to it, and there stood a rustic Elf bearing the tools of a carpenter.

"I am Erynmaethor, Lady. The King's Seneschal has sent word that I must provide you with any furniture you find needful." He gazed about the empty cottage.

"It seems," he went on with a grin, "that quite a bit will be needful! What would you like first?"

"A cot for the infant," she replied. "And the oven must be repaired straightaway, for I shall have to heat water. Much hot water is necessary when one cares for a laes."

"Well I know it," Erynmaethor replied fervently, "for my wife and I have lately become the parents of a little one."

"Indeed? How old?"

"He is an Elf born but two weeks ago. We have named him Tathar. He has red hair, which has struck amazement into all who dwell hereabouts, for as you know, such a color is unusual in an Elf. He is much admired!"

Edwen Nana stared at him in wonder.

"Red hair! It cannot be!"

"Aye, Lady," Erynmaethor said proudly, "red hair."

"And with a strawberry birthmark on his shoulder?"

Erynmaethor was dumbfounded.

"However did you know that!?"

"Oh," Edwen Nana said airily, "it seemed to me that an elfling with red hair ought to have a strawberry birthmark."

Erynmaethor shook his head in bemusement.

"Still, 'tis extraordinary that you should guess its exact location."

Edwen Nana laughed.

"Yes, the matter is extraordinary indeed." To herself she said, "The Valar be praised!" Aloud she continued, "But tell me, Erynmaethor, how much will I owe for the furniture?

"Nothing, Lady. The Seneschal has arranged that I be recompensed."

"Still, I should like to show my appreciation. Perhaps I can mind your little elfling from time to time. Indeed, I should very much like to do so," she went on when Tathar's Adar began to protest, "for then my own little one, Laiqua, will have a playmate."

"True," said Erynmaethor thoughtfully. "I had not thought of that."

"So," Edwen Nana said eagerly, "you will bring him by from time to time?"

"Sometimes it is good to have my wife's company in the forest when I have much wood to fetch. On those occasions 'twould be best if she did not have to bring along the laes. But you are sure you would not mind?"

"Oh, no," Edwen Nana assured him. "I have love and to spare for all younglings."

"Then I shall bring him to you from time to time."

"Frequently, I hope."

"Ah, my wife will not want to spare him _too _often. She dotes on him."

"Does she!? Oh, I _am_ glad," Edwen Nana declared feelingly. "The Valar be praised; with two such loving parents, he will surely be a very happy elfling!"

Erynmaethor was a little surprised at the fervor in her voice, but he marked it up to her role as a foster-mother. Such an elleth, he thought to himself, must be generous in her love, liable to freely offer her affection to any and all elflings.

Erynmaethor never knew the truth of the matter, of course; no, nor did anyone else, save Gandalf, who divined it when first he laid eyes upon Laiqua and Tathar together.

"It will complicate matters if ever I tell the tale," Edwen Nana said to herself on more than one occasion. But as the years passed she found that it no longer mattered to her that she could never publicly proclaim Tathar to be her lost Born. She was permitted to lavish love upon him, and he loved her in return, as did Laiqua.

"In the end," she mused, "I suppose I have gotten the better of the bargain: two sons in exchange for the one who was lost. Yes, I do not think I can complain about the way things have turned out. I have my greenleaf, and I have my little redpoll, too."

And so Bereniell became Edwen Nana and mothered both Tathar and Legolas, Prince of Greenwood. During a much later time, she would once again become known as Bereniell, but that, my Friend, is, as usual, another story.


	2. Slicing And Dicing

**_Dragonfly, Farflung, and Karri:_ Yes, it seems very appropriate to shed at least a few tears on Edwen Nana's behalf. Things do turn out well for her in the end, but first she must stand up to tragedies that would leave some people incapable of action.**

**_Kelly Kragen: _In this installment she will become Bereniell again, so your question will be answered.**

**_Joee_****Of course, there are two other dreadful events she will have to face: first, the day that Legolas is abruptly returned to the Great Hall, and, second, the day she is told that Legolas has been lost to spiders (as everyone will wrongly assume). At some point I think I shall try to describe both events from her point of view.**

**In this chapter, Edwen Nana, whose given name had been forgotten, recovers it under most unexpected circumstances. She also wins for herself a new title. And, of course, this being a chapter about a mature Edwen Nana, Gandalf's staff comes in for some attention.**

When we recall the War of the Ring, too often we remember only the great battles that took place in the south: the siege of Helms Deep; the mighty battle on the Pelennor, before the walls of Minas Tirith; and the heroic march to the Black Gate of Mordor by a hopelessly outnumbered force of warriors prepared to forfeit their own lives if by doing so they could help the Perian Frodo reach the fiery chasms of Orodruin. But the war was not confined to the south; the servants of Sauron were abroad everywhere, for the Dark Lord wished to prevent Free Folk from coming together in one mighty army, and forces that might have rallied to the defense of Gondor were kept busy skirmishing elsewhere. It was in that manner that Northern Mirkwood was drawn into the Great War at the end of the Third Age, even though only one Elf from that domain, Legolas Thranduilion, was present at the battles in the south.

In the past, the greatest threats to Northern Mirkwood had been on its southern border, in the regions adjacent to Southern Mirkwood, which had long been dominated by the evil that invested Dol Guldur. At one time, with the encouragement and assistance of Gandalf the Grey, the source of that evil, which had proved to be the traitorous Vala Sauron, had been driven out, but toward the end of the Third Age, the servants of the Dark Lord had crept back in again. Orcs roamed the woods, wargs lurked in thickets, and the spiders flocked there for sanctuary. Because of these dangers, the southern border was carefully guarded. As to the west, in that direction lay the plain that stretched to the Misty Mountains. Enemies could not approach unseen; moreover, much of that grassland was well defended by Beorn and his servants. Now as to the north and east, in those directions were situated the realms of Esgaroth and Erebor. It was not impossible that danger should come that way, but, as with the west, it was felt to be less likely. By far the greatest of the elven forces were therefore concentrated to the south.

When Sauron moved against the northern kingdoms, however, it was from the north and east that his servants first attacked. Erebor took the brunt of the assault, but the forces of Esgaroth, led by King Bain, ever the loyal ally of King Dáin, hastened to the aid of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and the Men of Dale. In the defense of the northern realms, side by side were to fall King Bain and King Dáin, King Under the Mountain.

The struggle of the Men and Dwarves did not go unmarked. The army of Orcs attacking Erebor was an enormous one, and Thranduil knew that if Erebor fell, Esgaroth would be next, and then his own kingdom would be assailed. For that reason alone, even if his kingdom had not had long-standing ties with Esgaroth, he would have gone to the aid of Bain and Dáin.

So great was the Orc host that Thranduil never dreamed that another force could have been held in reserve. Nor did it occur to his Seneschal Gilglîr that this would have been possible. Yet in the Misty Mountains such an army was hidden. Leaving Tawarmaenas in charge—in Legolas' absence he was always treated as Prince and Heir Apparent—the King and Seneschal and their elven warriors marched away to the aid of Dwarves and Men. Immediately, the goblin horde made its move. The Orcs followed a course that brought them from the west well to the north of the kingdom, so that they escaped detection until the last minute, when they suddenly pivoted so that they drove southeast. The sentinels on the western border could do nothing but abandon their posts and race for the Great Hall so that Tawarmaenas would have the earliest possible notice of the impending threat. The goblins followed so hard on their heels that there was no time to call up reinforcements from the more heavily defended south. Thus Tawarmaenas would have to protect the center of Thranduil's realm with a small force of warriors and any of the servants who might be pressed into service.

Tawarmaenas began to consider what to do as anxious Elves crowded into the Presence Chamber. First, he needed to establish a chain of command.

"Gilglîr has accompanied my uncle to Esgaroth," he declared to the assembled Elves. "I thus have no Seneschal to second me, and I have need of one. I deem that Tathar Erynmaethorion shall serve me as such."

Tathar objected.

"I have only been trained as a carpenter."

"Do not say 'only', Tathar. You plan, you design, you supervise. It is as if all your life you have been preparing for a moment such as this, a moment that calls for a master tactician, and one well able to inspire confidence in those called upon to put his devices into effect."

A murmur of approval arose from the gathered Elves, and Tathar bowed in acknowledgement of the honor.

"There are many here," continued Tawarmaenas, "who have not been trained as warriors but who will nevertheless find that they have the courage and strength necessary for the defense of our homeland. Everyone who can bear arms must do so. Everyone."

Tawarmaenas stood tall and spoke boldly, and none was unmoved. Galion the Butler, who had hitherto been distinguished only for falling asleep on duty, was the first to answer the call. He hefted an old sword, an heirloom that had been wielded centuries earlier by a kinsman.

"My Lord, all my life I have wrestled with nothing more dangerous than barrels, but I swear upon the Silmaril of Eärendil that any Orc who seeks the hospitality of this Hall shall receive a vigorous welcome on the point of this sword."

Tawarmaenas nodded approvingly.

"Let all be lessoned by the resolve of Galion. To the armory, all who lack weapons. My advisors, follow me so that we may plan our defense."

Tawarmaenas, Tathar, and the councilors gathered in Thranduil's private chamber, there to debate tactics. Most of the suggestions were of the usual sort—line up armed Elves in a face-off with the oncoming Orcs. At last, however, Tathar spoke, and his advice was exceedingly unusual.

"We must not try to prevent the Orcs from entering the Great Hall," said Tathar.

The other Elves looked shocked, but Tawarmaenas did not appear surprised. He nodded and encouraged Tathar to explain himself.

"No doubt you have a reason for this suggestion."

"I do. Whether we take our stand outside the entrance to the Hall or just within, we do not have enough Elves to withstand these Orcs for long. Moreover, for all our willingness to fight, our force lacks military experience, most never having borne weapons before. In the end, the Orcs will break in. Since this is so, we may as well avoid sacrificing Elves in a futile effort to prevent them from entering. Instead, conserve our forces so that we may take advantage of the fact that our foes will ultimately force their way past the doors of the Hall. The chambers of the Great Hall are numerous, and the passages that lead between them winding and convoluted. There is more than one way to reach many of the chambers. Thus, an Elf pursued by Orcs could flee out one side of a chamber as his foes enter the other side. We will be able to split up and lead small bands of Orcs on a merry chase without any danger of falling into their hands. All the while, they will become more and more confused about their whereabouts, and little by little, we will lead all the Orcs into the chambers in the lowest level of the Hall, and, then, well, I mean to contrive a little surprise for our guests."

Even though some of the councilors were doubtful about this plan, Tawarmaenas had no reservations. Over the years, Tathar had repeatedly proved his cleverness. Tawarmaenas therefore expressed his approval in terms that were so decisive that all his advisors fell silent. The Prince authorized Tathar to take any steps he deemed necessary to defend the Great Hall. Tathar at once suggested to Tawarmaenas several routes that the Elves might use in order to lure the Orcs to the lowest level of the Great Hall. Then the master carpenter turned to Galion.

"Galion, your familiarity with the lading dock and the wine cellar is about to be put to excellent use. Follow me!"

The Butler and his subalterns left with Tathar, and Tawarmaenas turned to the remaining Elves and gave final instructions as to the steps that were to be followed in order to decoy the Orcs to the necessary locations. When those Elves had left to convey these instructions to other Elves, the Prince turned to Edwen Nana.

"Nana, you are in charge of the safety of the ellith and elflings."

Swiftly he described to her the location of the chamber that he wished the ellith and elflings to take shelter in.

"Do you know the chamber of which I speak?"

"I know it well."

"It is a large chamber, but to reach it you must climb a narrow staircase, and the door at the top of these steps is a small one. It is to be hoped that the Orcs will never guess that behind that tiny opening rests this kingdom's greatest treasure. If they do try to take the chamber, though, the ellith and elflings can flee down a passageway that leads to a hidden exit in the midst of the woods. But do not make use of this passageway unless you must; there is no certainty that you will not confront peril in the forest itself. It would be sad indeed if our ellith and elflings escaped Orcs only to be taken by spiders."

The determined and methodical Edwen Nana immediately deputized several ellith to help gather together her charges, and once all were accounted for, she shepherded the refugees into the chamber hidden in an obscure corner of the Great Hall.

As the ellith and elflings were hurrying to the designated chamber, all warriors and scouts stationed outside the Hall were recalled, and the most experienced of them joined the Elves who had been ordered by Tawarmaenas to take positions just inside the entrance to the Great Hall. These latter Elves waited impassively as the Orcs reached the door and began to batter upon it. Tawarmaenas had told the warriors that, once the Orcs had broken in, they were to fire off as many volleys of arrows as they safely could but were to retreat as soon as they were in peril. It was to be hoped that the Orcs, having been confronted with initial resistance, would not suspect a trap. If they instead believed that they had overwhelmed the Elves, they might heedlessly pursue the fleeing warriors and therefore be drawn all the easier down, down, down into the bowels of the Great Hall.

Tawarmaenas was right. The Orcs battered down the door, the Elves shot off several volleys before fleeing in apparent disarray, and the goblins, howling with blood-lust, eagerly chased after them, in the process abandoning all discipline and breaking into small bands.

One such band chased an Elf whose path took him past the stairs that led up to the door behind which the ellith and elflings were sheltering. Unfortunately, at this moment a frightened elfling began to wail. Now, every Naneth knows that when one babe cries, the others nearby will begin to wail in sympathy, and, although the ellith attempted to calm the elflings, a chorus of cries soon arose that was loud enough to penetrate the wooden door into the corridor beyond. Hearing the sounds of younglings, some of the Orcs gave off chasing the Elf, for they believed that easier prey were at hand. They began to climb the staircase that led to the chamber in which the elflings and ellith huddled.

Edwen Nana had taken the precaution of carrying a sword with her. When one of the other ellith looked askance at her, the nursemaid had vehemently declared, "Those who do not carry swords can still die upon them! If an Orc were to come across an unarmed elleth, he would slay her without pausing to draw breath. Well, I don't mean to be that unarmed elleth. And I certainly don't mean to allow those fiends to butcher any of these elflings!"

Now she heard the footsteps upon the stairs and knew that these were no Elves that approached.

"Lock the door behind me," she shouted to Tathar's Naneth. "And lead the ellith and elflings into the passageway. But do not sally forth into the woods unless it becomes absolutely necessary."

Edwen Nana did not intend to wait inside the chamber while the door was battered in. Slipping through the doorway, she leaped onto the steps.

"'Tis indeed a nice narrow staircase," she thought grimly. "Will only have to deal with one fiend at a time. Others will simply have to wait their turn. Good lesson in manners, that."

And so she 'served' the Orcs one by one. The first grinning goblin who reached her soon forfeited his smile, for his head went flying down the stairs, taking its smile with it. The next Orc discovered that he was no longer as 'handy' as formerly, and the one after was 'disarmed' by the elleth. In quick succession, an orc found that he 'no longer had a leg to stand on', another learned a new meaning for the word 'heartless', one was suddenly 'unmanned', yet another found that he 'no longer had the stomach' for battle, and the Orc that followed him, who had prided himself on displaying 'guts' on the battlefield, was soon displaying guts in another sense altogether. Edwen Nana sliced, diced, filleted, and chopped, and in short order she had reduced the Orcs to—well, she had reduced them very much indeed.

After Edwen Nana had dispatched all her foes, she calmly surveyed the scene, declaring with satisfaction, "I have served you all with your just desserts." Then she calmly removed a pin from her hair, picked the lock, reentered the chamber, locked the door behind her, and strolled down the passageway in search of the ellith and elflings who were hidden there.

"I'll just leave that mess for someone else to mop up," she said to herself. "All these centuries, I've been saying to myself, 'If I dress the carcasses, someone else ought to do the cleaning afterward'. Well, now I think I shall put that principle into practice."

While Edwen Nana had been making short work of Orcs, Tathar, Galion, and their assistants had been quite busy in the vicinity of the lading dock and the wine cellar. The river normally flowed into the cellar area and past the lading dock, the water then exiting through a tunnel, but Tathar and his crew had stopped the outflow. Through closing some doors and opening others, Tathar had guided the water corridor by corridor until it had arrived in a passageway just above the lowest level of the Great Hall. In preparation for the water, a tiny hole had been drilled through both the floor of the corridor and the ceiling of one of the chambers below.

By this time, the lowest level of the Hall was filled with Orcs who milled about in confusion, the Elves they had been chasing having suddenly vanished through doors that led back up to the higher levels. As the Elves made their escape, they locked and barricaded these doors behind them. Water began to drip through the ceiling, but the Orcs paid the tiny trickle no heed, for they were preoccupied with locating and forcing open the doors, and a little water seemed of no moment. Meanwhile, more and more water poured into the passageway above them, and the trickle grew into a stream. Still the Orcs did not perceive their peril. Disorganized, they swore and jostled each other as they tried various doors, but no concerted effort was mounted to break down any one in particular.

Suddenly a wooden ceiling brace gave way, and the stream of water was transformed into a torrent. The power of the water then took out more boards, and, with the sickening shriek, the remaining timbers shattered and the entire ceiling collapsed. The Orcs in the chamber immediately below were swept off their feet by the deluge, and their bodies were caught up by the flood and battered violently against the walls and ceilings of the chamber.

The water now poured into neighboring chambers, and Orcs began to frantically pound against every door that they could find. The Elves on the other side of these doors meanwhile strengthened the already substantial barricades with more and more boxes and barrels.

At last the entire lower level of the Hall had been flooded. One by one the Orcs gave off pounding the doors until Tawarmaenas was certain that all the Orcs must have perished. Tathar agreed with his estimation and set Elves to reopening the outflow. Once the river had returned to its usual course, the carpenter devised pumps so that the lower levels of the Great Hall might be drained of water. It took Elves working day and night for a week to remove all the water from the Hall, but no one minded the sore muscles that resulted. "Better an aching back than a slashed throat," declared one wit, and his comrades heartily agreed.

When the water on the lowest level had been reduced enough so that its corridors might be entered, Elves descended to remove the carcasses of the Orcs. (Edwen Nana's Orc cutlets had already been gathered up and disposed of.) Other Elves had been laboring to dig a great pit, for Tathar had said that the bodies would be too soggy to make burning them convenient. The carcasses were therefore dumped unceremoniously into the pit, and dirt heaped upon them. Rocks were piled on top to keep animals from digging them up again. No trees ever again grew at this spot, but flowering vines spread about until it was really quite a pretty place. At length Tathar devised a fountain for it, and Elves delighted in calling it the Orcs' water garden. It must be admitted that some Elves do indulge in rather mordant humor upon occasion.

At the turning of the moon, Thranduil and Gilglîr and the other battered survivors of skirmishes to the northeast rode wearily up to the entrance of the Great Hall. Along the way, they had passed the scene of the great delving, and they marveled at what it might mean. Tawarmaenas stood at the entrance of the Hall to greet them.

"Mae govannen, Uncle. Mae govannen, Gilglîr."

Thranduil slowly dismounted, groaning a little.

"You look well, Tawarmaenas. Has anything of note happened in our absence?"

"Well, uncle, we have washed a great deal of filth from the Great Hall. Indeed, I must warn you that you will find it a little damp within."

"Housecleaning, eh? Whatever possessed you to engage in that during this season of the year?"

"Truly, Uncle, the Hall was overrun by the filth."

"Strange. The Hall was quite clean when we left. How came it to be overrun by filth so quickly?"

"Crept up on us," Tawarmaenas replied promptly.

While this conversation was taking place, Gilglîr had been examining the door, for he had noticed that several planks had been replaced.

"Tawarmaenas," he called, "did the filth attack the door?"

"Indeed, that is so," replied Tawarmaenas, grinning.

"Singularly ill bred filth, I should say," commented Gilglîr, who now smiled as well. "I hope you unleashed Edwen Nana on them to teach them some manners."

"Yes, and she left quite an impression in the brains of several of them."

Thranduil had now caught on.

"May I assume," he asked, "that the disturbed patch of earth back yonder is the spot where you disposed of the filth?"

"Yes, Uncle. But come inside and refresh yourself whilst I tell you the story. Pity Tathar is checking the defenses to the south, for the part he plays in the tale is a large one. But he shall recite it in full when he returns. Meanwhile, I will quickly sketch out the major events for you."

Tawarmaenas led the party to the Presence Chamber, which, being located in one of the upper levels, was quite dry. Wine and other refreshments were served as the young Elf recited the tale in a most animated fashion.

"So all the Orcs were drowned then," said Thranduil at last, "and none slain by the sword."

"Some were shot down by archers who were positioned just within the entrance to the Great Hall. And there were indeed some slain by the sword, Uncle," Tawarmaenas replied. "Three were decapitated; four disemboweled; and seven had one or more limbs amputated. Oh, yes, one was castrated."

"That was the unkindest cut of all," winced Thranduil, looking more than a little pale.

"And," continued Tawarmaenas, "all met their ends at the same hand."

"By the Valar!" exclaimed Thranduil. "I must meet this mighty warrior!"

"Here she is," Edwen Nana said, strolling forward nonchalantly. "I've dressed many a deer in my life, and the knowledge of where best to make each cut did turn out to be handy, if I may say so myself."

"You may, you may say anything you please," stammered Thranduil. "_I_ would not dare gainsay you!"

"Nor I!" exclaimed Gilglîr.

Thranduil shook his head in amazement and awe.

"Was there ever an Edwen Naneth as valiant as this one? Bereniell I name her—Bold Maiden—for she will stop at nothing in the defense of an elfling. Yes, Bereniell the Edwen Naneth she shall henceforth be called!"

"No," said Gilglîr. "Let her be called Bereniell the Eruinaneth—Bereniell the First Amongst Mothers."

This second suggestion was universally greeted with cheers, and Thranduil gave way with grace and good humor.

"Very well. Bereniell the First Amongst Mothers she shall be."

The next day Thranduil, in company with Gilglîr, began to wade through a number of matters that had been left in abeyance at the outbreak of hostilities. It was late when at last the two friends set aside matters of state to close out the day with light banter over glasses of Dorwinion wine. At last the conversation came around to the matter of Edwen Nana.

"Do you recall, Gilglîr, that once, in a moment of irritation, Edwen Na—uh, Bereniell—said she would have Mithrandir's staff?"

"I do indeed."

"Um, you don't suppose," Thranduil nervously said, "that she was being a tad more, um, _literal_ than we assumed? I mean, she chopped up those Orcs; you don't suppose she'd ever actually _dismember_ him, so to speak?"

Gilglîr chuckled.

"Thranduil, I will grant you that, when Bereniell says she'll have Mithrandir's staff, she may have something in mind other than literally seizing upon a woody rod—at least not _that_ woody rod. However, to _dismember_ him is not her goal; I assure you that such an action would hardly suit her needs, let alone her desires!"

Thranduil heaved an enormous sigh of relief.

"I am glad to hear you say that. I once heard Galadriel compliment Mithrandir by telling him that he was 'a Man of many parts', but I have no desire to see each individual part laid out before me."

"Nor does Bereniell wish to see each part laid out before her—at least not unless each part is attached to each other part. Believe me, Thranduil, she'd like each and every member to be in working order."

"So you don't think we need to make sure that Bereniell has no knives about her the next time she encounters Mithrandir?"

"Trust me: the only sharp object Bereniell will rely upon is her tongue."

"Ah, yes, that and her cutting wit." Thranduil was well acquainted with that latter weapon and had the greatest respect for it. Still, the King of Mirkwood knew that Mithrandir could wield a sharp tongue as well, if he were so inclined. He therefore now dismissed his fear that Bereniell would 'do for' the Maia in any fashion that would cause the Istar any permanent harm.

"Well, Gilglîr, in view of what you have said, I am sure that Mithrandir will be able to stand up to Bereniell."

"I certainly hope so," chuckled Gilglîr. "I would be very disappointed if he could not!"

"Gilglîr!" scolded Thranduil, adopting the pretense of being scandalized. The Seneschal, however, knew that Thranduil now found the matter to be amusing, and the two friends at last turned again to discussing other subjects more substantive than Bereniell's plans for Gandalf's staff. And so, Reader, shall I.


End file.
